


Devil in a Blue Dress

by OriginalCeenote



Series: Be My Guest [3]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Clint Barton is a Walking Disaster, Consumption of Junk Foods, Demon Summoning is a lot like calling for a Lyft, Demon!Clint Barnes, Lonely Bucky, M/M, Nat has had enough, The Author Borrows a Meme, mentions of breakups
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:54:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035257
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalCeenote/pseuds/OriginalCeenote
Summary: The world is full of demons running amok. One of Bucky’s new friend’s old friends comes to visit.“Out of all the looks you could have picked out, you picked this. This form.” Nat wrinkled her nose at him, taking in the boyish face and scruffy, short blond crop, hopelessly wrinkled clothes, and the tiny band-aid on Clentehalzebub’s - onClint’s- jaw. Fromshaving, of all things.He sat cramming wads of the salty, greasy curly fries into his mouth; certainly, they weren’t the most distasteful thing she’d watched him consume, but still.Still.He shrugged, mumbling around his junk food, “Hey. Some humans think this is cute. You justwishyou could make this work.”





	Devil in a Blue Dress

**Author's Note:**

> I still have no real plan for where I'm going with this. I just wanted to write for writing's sake.

Bucky found the note stuck in the slat of his mirror hanging over the bureau, scrawled in Clint’s block print. There were scratchy scribbles on the paper, like he’d been testing a pen that was about to run out of ink. 

_HEY. HAD TO TAKE OFF FOR A WHILE. DON’T WORRY. BACK WHENEVER YOU NEED ME._

_CLINT_

_PS - YOU DROOL A LOT IN YOUR SLEEP._

_PPS - YOU’RE CUTE WHEN YOU DROOL._

 

“Back whenever you need me,” Bucky murmured.

Oh, _fuck._

Bucky tugged on his hair, feeling cold dread crawl over his skin. So, maybe that was what Clint had meant. That he had to take off for a while. Back into “The Void,” as he’d called it. The first few days slid into a month, and Bucky admitted to himself that his rent-a-demon was starting to feel more… like a roommate. Bucky knew that Clint needed to go dormant, for a while, to replenish his energies. He mentioned something about “anchoring” and “grounding” and described the Void in pedestrian terms (“Think of the darkest darkness that ever darked. Like, then go about ten shades darker than that. Yeah. And… there’s just a lot of other stuff that you can’t imagine. Or. Y’know. Maybe you shouldn’t. Do yourself that favor, sweetheart.”).

Apparently, Clint could only stay in the mortal realm for so long before the Void called Clint back. 

“Hey. So, promise me you’ll behave while I’m gone?”

“Do I need blood for that?”

“For what?”

“To make you a promise.”

“Ahahahahaha… funny. You’re _hilarious_ , my guy.” Clint shook his finger at Bucky and winked at him, and his blue eyes glowed eldritch gold for a second. “Nah. No blood. Here’s the thing, though… I stayed here for a while. Maybe a little too long. So. That means that you might have to summon me again, if you need me.”

“Oh. Uh. Summon you again, huh?”

Clint sighed heavily. “Look. I kinda hate that as much as you do. I mean, I’m having a pretty good time, here. Hangin’ out with you. I mean, your aura. It’s. It’s friggin’ _amazing._ I could just soak it up all day. But that ain’t in the job description of what I do.”

“I guess it’s not.”

“Buck-O-”

“I mean, I can’t just hog you all up for myself,” Bucky told him casually, all while pushing down the niggling realization that was _just_ what he wished he could do. But, just because he’d summoned Clint…

...that didn’t mean he _owned_ him. Not by a longshot. 

Clint gave him a sad look. “Just promise me you won’t try anything super duper desperate, okay? Like, no more spells? The one you used to summon me before? It’s powerful stuff. Just, just don’t dabble. Don’t be a dabbler. That’s dangerous. Bad news. Worst idea _ever_. EVER. You get me?”

“Right. No dabbling. Got it.” Bucky gave Clint a little salute. “Aye-aye.”

Clint’s nose scrunched as he fought back a chuckle. “Anyhoo. (I’m serious. C’mon, Buck.) So. No dabbling. We covered that. Watch your step around that landlord of yours. I warned you about him. He’s bad news. Just. Be careful. Not just of him, either. There are some skeevy people out there. They’ll suck the life right outta ya.”

“I know. I just drop the money into the slot at his office,” Bucky reminded Clint.

“Yeah, well… do it when you know he’s not around.”

“Okay, okay!”

“You can tell, after a while. When someone’s got bad intentions toward you. Right?”

“Kind of.” Bucky could certainly remember times when he’d been used. Middle school had been a minefield. He was still convinced that his shop teacher was the Anti-Christ. 

“Just trust your gut. I mean, when you have this feeling like something’s a little off… it’s okay to get up and run. And y’know. You can call me.”

Bucky’s brows drew together. “Call you… as in…?”

“It’s not like summoning. Here. Don’t say I never gave you anything.” Clint reached for Bucky’s hand and pressed something small and gleaming into his palm. His touch was gentle as he folded Bucky’s fingers around it. “Just a little souvenir.” 

“What do i do with it?”

“Keep it close to you. Within fingertip’s reach.”

“Seriously?”

Clint gave him an embarrassed little look from under his lashes. “Yeah, well. Anyhoo. Just keep it nearby.”

“It’s kinda gaudy.”

“What, ya don’t want it? I can take it back?”

Bucky clutched it to his chest with a warning look. “Fuck that. I love it. I’m keeping it forever, buddy boy.”

Clint clapped Bucky on the shoulder with a grin. “Okay! So. Hey. How ‘bout a hug for the road?”

Bucky’s smile faltered. “When will you be back?”

“Soon. Sooner than you think.”

Panic stirred in Bucky’s chest at the absence of a return date. He tried to be big about it. “It’s. It’s okay. If you hit a roadblock, Clint. Or if something comes up.”

“Awwww, no! Bucky, no!” Clint reached for him and engulfed him in a crushing hug. Bucky’s fears slowly rippled away, but his hands clung to Clint’s back, anyway. “Screw roadblocks. I’ll be back, and you’ll be fine. Okay? C’mon. You still owe me a trip to that noodle place you were tellin’ me about.”

“The one with the garlic edamame.”

“Yeah. That’s the one.”

“Maybe I’m just your excuse for goin’ out to eat.”

“Pfffft… sure, Buck-O.” Clint’s laugh sounded rusty and comforting. He gave Bucky’s hair one last caress and gently backed away. He dismissed the tenderness of the moment with a little shove. Bucky was still clutching the artifact. Clint’s eyes flickered again and Bucky watched a little shudder run through his body. Clint winced with discomfort. “Hey. I’ve gotta go.”

“Course you do.”

“Buck-O-”

“It’s fine. Okay? It’s fine. I’ll stay out of trouble.”

“Drink your water. And get some sleep. Don’t forget that proposal you have due on Wednesday.”

“I’m working on it,” Bucky promised.

“Go ahead and get the salt.”

Bucky gathered up the black salt and poured out a ring in the same corner of the living room where he had first summoned Clint. As soon as both ends of the circle were joined, the room felt charged with a strange energy that plucked at them both. Clint’s body jerked, and he expelled a sharp breath. His eyes glowed gold again, this time revealing slitted pupils, and this time, Bucky knew it was really goodbye.

Or, at least, “See ya later, pal.”

“Light the candle,” Clint instructed.

Bucky gave him a stiff nod and did as he was told, lighting all five wicks. Okay. He would stick with that one, if the extra wicks bought him a few more seconds in Clint’s presence. Not only that, but Yankee Candle was having a sale.

The circle exuded eldritch smoke again, and Clint shifted, slowly changing and growing until he resumed his natural form. Bucky was no less awed by it now, but a voice in the back of his mind reminded him, _This is the guy who you watched fall off the curb when he got distracted by your neighbor’s labradoodle._

“Hey! Don’t forget, I’m gonna miss the Giants game!”

“I’ll give you the recap when you get back.”

“Get Guido’s,” Clint called to him as he disappeared in a whirl of smoke.

*

That was the first time Clint left. Sometimes, he told him, other mortals summoned him, leaving him with no choice but to skedaddle. This was one of those times. Bucky stared at the note for a moment before he tucked it into his pocket.

“It’s fine. You’ll be fine,” Bucky muttered. “He’ll be back.”

*

 

_Okay. So, this looks bad._

The apartment was decent. Two bedroom, one bath. Nice view of the city park. Lots of IKEA furniture, Target lamps and throw pillows, and a few hanging ferns that looked like they hadn’t been watered enough.

The sole occupant of the living room was surrounded by herbs, candles, and empty ice cream cartons. She was young, maybe mid-twenties. Mascara ran down her pale cheeks. Clint saw the remnants of old old photographs that were missing the same face, compliments of her craft scissors. He noticed the nick on the palm of her hand; at least she hadn’t picked a place that would leave a noticeable scar. She could claim she cut herself while she was chopping kale.

“Hey, sweet cheeks,” he greeted her, letting his tail flick back and forth as he took in her surroundings.

“Oh, my God…”

“Is that the Log Cabin candle everyone keeps going on about? The one that smells like a hot lumberjack? It ain’t half bad.”

She nodded and smiled, right before her eyes went completely vacant.

“Okay,” Clint murmured as she fainted dead away.

*

 

Another easy assignment. Allison. Music and education double major at Brown. Boyfriend left her for a lounge singer after her parents disowned her for moving in with him. All Clint had to do was head over to his new place, knock on the door, and dangle him by the ankles over the side of the balcony to shake him down, making him promise to give back the dog they adopted from the shelter together.

“I paid for shots and to have him neutered and chipped. That wasn’t cheap. He never even plays with him,” she reasoned to Clint, just short of babbling. The dog, the sweetest, cutest malti-poo Clint had ever seen, was snuggled on her lap, licking her cheeks and chin. “He didn’t deserve him. Humphrey is all I have.”

“Nuts to that guy. Right, Humphrey?”

Humphrey wagged his tail. Clint wagged his back.

“He’s a good boy,” Clint told her.

“Right? It’s so cute. He plays the best game of fetch… hey, do you have to hurry off?”

“Kinda do. I mean, I’m already penciled in to meet somebody else, and I have to get changed.”

“And… you said you go by Clint?”

“Yeah. It’s. It’s kind of a thing. It’s grown on me.”

“It fits you. You, er. You _look_ like a Clint.”

“Hey, thanks! And, Allison. Little tip for you: I have a buddy who works cheap the next time you need to shake anybody down. Not that I regret us meeting, and all, but this isn’t a good look. You’ve gotta take care of yourself. You don’t know who could’ve come crawling through that portal.”

Allison hung her head and looked guilty. Humphrey whined low in his throat and panted, yipping at Clint in agreement.

“This should have been your _last_ resort.”

“I know, I know…”

“Okay. Not judging you. This isn’t me being judgy.”

“Thank you for this.”

“Any time… hey. Is that today’s paper?”

“Sure.”

Clint picked it up, thumbing through it with his ebon, scaly hands. “Hey. There’s a lunch coupon to that new burger place downtown. You gonna use it?”

Allison shook her head.

“Mind if I take it?”

“Nope.”

“Awesome!” Clint tried tearing it out carefully on the perforated lines, but it still left behind jagged edges. “Sweet! Okay. Okay. I’ll skedaddle.”

“Do I have to do anything to… send you anywhere?”

“No. No, no. I can just use the door.”

Clint headed for it, turned his craggy head, and reminded her, “Lock up after me.”

Clint wandered down the hallway, heedless of the effect that his appearance had on Allison’s neighbors. He gave the creepy old pervert in apartment 3B a heart attack. Clint stared him down, drinking in the man’s dark, sour aura.

“See you soon, pal.”

The guy clutched his chest as he staggered back inside his door. Clint huffed. Receiving souls of the damned wasn’t his particular line of work, but this asshole didn’t have to know that.

Still. Wouldn’t hurt to change before he got himself something to eat. Clint finished shifting by the time he reached the bottom of the stairwell corridor. The sunlight felt crisp against his smooth flesh once he opened the exit door.

Clint chose one of the outside tables and ordered the daily special with everything, including extra special sauce. The first bite of the burger sent fatty, savory juices squirting over his tongue, and he moaned in ecstasy. Clint was still fresh and renewed from his recovery in the Void, but his mortal form still craved food, and Clint had no problem when it came to feeding it. The burger was medium rare, with a fantastic ring of burnt cheese surrounding its edges, a house trademark. Clint munched on the extra pickle chips that dropped out from the layer of dripping toppings, shoving them into his mouth.

“Boszhe moi,” a familiar, feminine voice muttered from just above him. “How can you keep eating that junk?”

Clint glanced up, shielding his eyes from the sun with one mustard-smeared hand. “Oh, hey. What’s shaking, Natty?”

“That’s not my name, and you know it.”

“Natanjazrael doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, kiddo.”

“Hmmph.”

“Squeeze a cheek. Siddown for a spell. Want anything?”

“Do they have anything that hasn’t been rolling in a grease pit?”

“Not much.”

“I’ll just have the unsweetened iced tea, then.”

“My Natty knows how to party.”

She condescended to join him, sinking gracefully onto one of the simple, iron-backed chairs and crossing her legs, the proper etiquette involved with wearing a short dress. It was a soft, floaty teal cotton confection that brought out her catlike green eyes and strawberry red hair. She topped it with a cropped, acid-washed denim jacket and a cruel-looking pair of platform heels. She was beautiful by mortal standards, equal parts “cute” and “unattainable.” Clint had watched her break a man’s arm in this form before. It never got old. (They usually deserved it.)

“Out of all the looks you could have picked out, you picked this. This form.” Nat wrinkled her nose at him, taking in the boyish face and scruffy, short blond crop, hopelessly wrinkled clothes, and the tiny band-aid on Clentehalzebub’s - on _Clint’s_ \- jaw. From _shaving_ , of all things.

He sat cramming wads of the salty, greasy curly fries into his mouth; certainly, they weren’t the most distasteful thing she’d watched him consume, but still. _Still._

He shrugged, mumbling around his junk food, “Hey. Some humans think this is cute. You just _wish_ you could make this work.”

“Humans and what they consider ‘cute’ isn’t something you should want to achieve.”

Clint shrugged, saluting her with one of his fries before popping it into his mouth.

“Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Been busy.”

“You could still check in, you know.”

“Awwww! Why? You worried about me, Natty?”

“Every day of my misbegotten life.” There was affection and mild scolding in her tone. She barely spared the server a glance as she passed her a menu and took her order for tea.

“Everything’s copacetic. Yup. Just peachy-keen.”

“Got an assignment?”

“Yeah?”

“A brand-new assignment?”

“Actually just finished a new one.”

She caught the unspoken information that he’d left dangling, and the emphasis on “Just FINISHED a NEW one.”

“Soooooo… what, then? Waiting on a new summons, then?”

“I dunno,” Clint mumbled around a mouthful, which came out sounding like _Uuhumnnohhh_. His shrug was noncommittal, yet it spoke volumes.

“Clint.”

“What?”

“ _Clint._ ”

“What, Nat?”

“Don’t do this. What are you doing? We _talked_ about this.”

“No, we didn’t, Since when did we talk about anything? You know I never remember our conversations. I don’t even remember what I had for breakfast.”

“If you don’t have a new assignment, you’re still messing around with an _old_ assignment. Clentehalzebub. Look at me.”

Clint’s blue eyes skidded away, but Nat leaned across the table and grabbed his arm. “Clint.”

“Nat, quit yammerin’.”

“ _Clint._ ” Her eyes glowed a sinister greenish-gold, and the tips of her hair began to rise above her face, surrounding it in a flickering aureole. 

“Sssshhh. Calm down. Quit it. Cool your jets.” Clint snatched his arm from her grip. “Look. It’s. It’s complicated. The guy summoned me. And I told him. I told him, hey. It’s okay to summon me again. If you want.”

Nat’s hair sank back down, and her eyes reverted to green. They were full of judgment. She sighed deeply and rubbed her temples. “Seriously?”

“Hey. It’s a cake job. This guy is so easy, Natty. And he’s a sweetheart.”

“That’s not what we do.”

“Hey. We do a little of everything.”

“You might have the wrong idea of what your job involves. We help the mortals make bad decisions. We tempt them. We nudge them a few baby steps closer to oblivion, damnation and chaos. We _live_ for chaos.”

“I know that. Don’t talk to me like I’m five. I hate that.”

“You’re hopeless. You _are_ five, Clentehalz-”

“No. Just Clint. I’m just Clint, now.”

Nat cocked her head. A smirk pulled at the corner of her mouth. “Clint?”

“It’s mine. He gave it to me, and it’s mine, so I’m taking it.”

“Wow,” she marveled. “What the _hell_ happened to you?”

“Just drink your damned tea and be sad.”


End file.
